"oscillates" poems
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway,
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
In willfully prevenient interpolation,
Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray,
Forecasts in vague extrapolation
Contrasts the millennial contagion
Already underway,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion,
Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion,
The personable recluse fighting an illusion
Breaking down the nuances of every institution.
Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity
Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility,
An opinionated adversary,
to the realist without evidence,
Theorizing in futility,
Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community.
Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified,
Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified,
Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide,
Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide,
Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified.
Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity,
As consequential regiments are expounded universally,
To unstratify the residents indiscriminately
And identify quantum elements spiritualistically,
Changing collective behavior individually,
Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
My neck is a nest
The warmth in it an ever present creature that
Oscillates and breeds and collects
And attracts creatures that do not
My neck is a nest
That doesn't just need to nurture but
To be nurtured and
Touched and kissed and electrified
In order to keep that warmth
My neck is a nest
That rests on an unsteady beating branch
And hangs under a filament-ridden sky
Neither of which can ever agree
But to disagree on whether
Niceness or smoothness or alcohol or hidden agendas
Should have anything to do with
How the warmth is kept
My neck is a nest
Full of hatchlings that have already
Dropped and soared
Dropped and stopped
Dropped and swooped at the last second
Where they are now
I have only an inkling.
My neck is a nest
That wishes to blend with the
Twigs and leaves and eggshells
That become it and
Be humbly content with who
It wants to attract and collect and warm.
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 9:06 PM UTC
sitting here but not
my insides
in a twist
my organs blooming,
their flower landscapes
rising in my solar plexus
like poetry expanding
its cellular shapes
into
light frequencies
I need way more.
I need the pulling off
and stripping down
of souls
I need to meet in
a depth of falling
I need to be pushed off
the silent gates of madness
into endless sea
no looking back
senses piqued
from slightest brush
of oral butter pouring
on hot cream
my mouth, a searing
crimson wound
oscillates in
contraction radar pulses
ripe for intense
tongue exploration
aching to be filled up with
your distinct flavor
My essence molecular is
overflowing with fluid
giving me life
in throbbing, raw
electric vibes
whipped organic, in
rolling tides
Somewhere, out there
our volcanic impulses
meet in steamy ebbs
and send energyflow
to a new and ancient universe,
magnetic
and I am
a raging heaven's child
wrapped in
a tight little
tourniquet
blood pumping
through these veins
my longing for
dark stretches
of intimate caresses
to soothe
the spikes
of snaking pain
Give me
those airwaves that
let me breathe freedom
into the fields of our skin
Let me run like wild herds
of the animal within
and as I find myself
hanging off
my
own
edges
my many-braided loops
in zigzag split,
a-fray
my skin rips open,
parting fibers
that expose my
very
DNA
helix swivel
undulation
hips grinding into
soul
reaching in to
pull out
fresh rebirth
from between my folds
O help me to allay
this tender affliction
undo me, already
so I lose control
one little shove
and I am over the cliff
deep into ocean
**** over spliff
I am beyond ready
so grind it to the hilt
Give me your
tender-ripped heart,
spill your honeycomb milk
I am here, ravenous
in the pan
uncooked yet ripe
saliva and breath
steaming my own innards
flushing out strife
I am piquant hot pepper
ready to be broiled
my blood is already
boiling
my tender meat oiled
mull me over
in your oral cavity
like sacred wine
until I drip
through your bones
and down your spine
Just meld with me
and flow
into that light tunnel
of dark time and space
so I can stake out
my rhythms
and claim
my
new
sacred
place
Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 12:20 AM UTC
If you're tired of carrying such weight,
that droops your shoulders and skews your gait
That you feel numb from the pain of the past,
and every new problem leaves you aghast
If you think you're one of the condemned and shady,
because your troubles come and never leave,
listen to the story about this young lady,
and then thank me for what you shall receive
She comes from I know not where,
and she goes I know not when,
spell her name, I know not how,
and speak to her, I know not what
Be not deceived thou yet my friend,
for she does not hide what others conceal,
she lives her life like an open book,
and every page has something to reveal
But what makes her unique and what makes her rare,
is how she oscillates between fun and care,
she looks at black and white in the same color - red
and that, I guess, is enough said
You may think she is born of privilege,
but let me tell you that is not true,
she gets her share of joy and pain,
trust me, she's just like you
And just like you she's afraid of insects,
and ghosts and ghouls and all that stuff,
but unlike you she doesn't run away from fear,
and unlike you she's pretty tough
So next time you feel like it's too much to bear,
and you feel engulfed in fires,
just read this poem and once again,
think about the girl who inspires!
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 10:46 AM UTC
I
The stars are double-weighted tonight.
bulging, beating, they sink
from their proper lurches.
One by one across the murky
evening they sputter out.
What natural light remains
seeps from that subtly gaudy
bauble of a moon.
II
Peeled eucalyptus, ice-plant, new-mown summer grass,
dandelion, sloping hill, carved stone bench,
the view, the reflected city-light off the bay water,
white-washed near-tenements.
I am firmly locked up, chained in a bone cage
of chemically manipulated cranial plates;
serotonin, synapses, dopamine, dendrite
create a web like seaweed constricting the sea;
this computer of a head calculates, oscillates,
and processes the sensory.
III
My body is a tattered jib sail
flowing in the light sprinkling rain:
the simmer of the gale:
a hollow cathedral abandoned
by the believers:
a vessel for my marrow:
an imaginary catalyst for profundity:
an incarceration: a hull of particles
arrested: some part of an experience.
Aug 25, 2012
Aug 25, 2012 at 1:46 PM UTC
My woman is the essence of being, she gathers the ruin of the day to offer moonbeams. Her touch, geared to moods of the moment, oscillates between slap and caress.... is always, though, kind, considerate, caring and layered betwixt lavender levels of love.
Mother of my boys, protector of the clan, matriarch and Monarch. My Janet, the very love of my life.
M.
Jan 10, 2019
Jan 10, 2019 at 2:21 PM UTC
**It seemingly oscillates from
The realm of practicality to that of blatant absurdity
A fearfully bold doubting Thomas of sorts
Embroiled in self-esteem issues
In constant conflict with itself
Sitting on the fence always
A pleasant consolation
And being a daredevil a fantasy
Nurtured in the remotest miniscule part of the brain
Tell me this aint fearless cowardice**
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 2:33 AM UTC
*A serious danger threatens the
Stability of our country;
Democracy dangles upon a thread
& oscillates to every poll.
Today we wait at the crossing
Of two paths; which way will we go?
Will we pursue spite and ignorance?
Our way of life hinges upon
The prudence of our countrymen.
Will they rise to the occasion
Or flounder at the voting booth?
One or two impetuous votes
Could change the course of history.
Will we be on the right side of history?
The tortuous months soon to come
Will shape our fragile destiny.
So many important questions
Remain unanswered as of now,
But I can only hope that we
Will avert a catastrophe.*
Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 1:44 PM UTC
Alien to me, is this falsity,
Always in difficult straits,
My mind oscillates between states,
Of rotten conscience and loyalty.
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 11:32 AM UTC
Fittingly meticulous, finicky
Precisely mitigating routine
Tracing excessively
Over cornered mezzanine
Stray penciled lines
Candidly contrived
Archaic dossier
Balanced centers
Unavoidably erase
Guiltily lost the way
Confused compass oscillates
Irregularly unanticipated
Perpetually transitory
Tender heart insecurity
Ego sensitivities in vain glory
Sacrificed arrogance dignity
On the day of defeat
Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 4:29 AM UTC
The darkness
the chuckling
expectation
static on fire
the strings shake
the leather oscillates
the ebony follows the ivory
the saucer vibrates
hands reach for the sky
piggy backs jostle
beams search out
crowds go wild
ears open wide
the voices converge
booming tubes
coma inducing
throaty in unison
musical ‘in same nation’
together in the moment
words are visualised
mindless contact in soulful understanding
the rhythm goes on
the pulse rises
the adoration becomes
I am transformed into my idol
Jun 29, 2020
Jun 29, 2020 at 11:10 AM UTC
my spirit wends
the woof and warp
~~~~~
appreciation
~~~~~
the aperture of my eyes
apprehend an amalgamation
of subtle ochre and olive
~~~~~
the shuttle oscillates
into the
oblivion of
a henna hued horizon
~~~~~
cacti in clusters
huddle under
"Mother Trees"
and other larger
spiny denizens of the desert
~~~~~
moisture is maintained
by miniscule leaf
and maximum storage
~~~~~
saguaro still sanguine
with water
~~~~~
what a tenuous
tapestry is knotted
in this temporal
craft
~~~~~
awe inspired by
the wheeling of hawk
even vultures have
elegant eloquence
of place
~~~~~
i floated all above
this macrocosm
higher and higher
til I was only
only a mote
in the eye
of
EAGLES
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 3:26 PM UTC
And the ships were fogbound for three days
Their hulls split smiling wide by the spray of the channel
We're hovering with them in the dimness of a drunk sun crawling under
A dusk devoid of color
Welcome rainclouds follow countless bouts of bleakness
Slate-gray miasma of refinery exhaust swirls
Mingling skyward with the overcast scene and all it's gulls and cranes
Cawing in the dampness toward their roosts under jetties
Those frayed hurricane tarps on dilapidated rooftops
Laid creased and faded by morose Texas suns
Epitaphs blotting dismal landscapes of copper and olive
And smashed concrete begging to be reclaimed by nature
As all of it is when the seasons heave
Our interim footnotes disguised by the power of purpose
The notion that one day our role will be to make life better for each other
(Oh, how we loathe being found out)
Instead of grimacing, sage-like, naked and angelic in our blindness by the mirror
While each shred of truth oscillates into blue ruin and we shake, shake, shake
Mesmerized by houses where we once lived and stories we must have led in them
In varied and skewed alternate realities, and in dreams we once had
Some of which paint homage to our own grim summers here
Some in which where my roads leading home were less obfuscated
Instead being laid out like the chemtrail creases drawn solemn on our brows
(We won't notice them until our thirties)
This far south, everything is the ageless vacuum we've known since conception
Thusly we're bound to the irony of it all by dull tradition and the will to break it
Among all other shams bred real by the ambitions of confused white men
Their warring remains reigning evident within my crooked heart
Under whichever corner of earthen floor it may be buried
Your guess is as good as anyone's
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 3:20 PM UTC
falling into subterranean sleep, I notice such blackness
bypasses a pinprick of light; dreams are avenues
to enigmas presenting themselves as someone forgotten.
sleep laves labyrinths with incandescent sequins.
everybody is strange here, interlocutor commune,
still yet nothing I can understand – better be braille, or
contrapuntal dance, but still you uttered nothing;
your locutionary silence seeks no contentment.
i have never heard such riot
of laughter toss me out of sleep. perhaps it was our undoing,
our deepest, secretive entrails unloosen us in such fashion
worth depicting as obscenely courageous, the width
of arm-span the size of outstretched islands, and stepping into
that particular wideness, are my small feet traipsing
swiftly throbbing in the heat of choosing:
to go or to stay – cyclic spectacle that eschews
dailiness that I know I may have forgotten you in faces
of lampposts, the pared skin of onion, the gleaming washlines,
the white feral on the rooftops, a blank piece of paper,
a munificent Bulacan sky, or any sky at that since
they are all bleached and they arrive not with wind but
with lashes: the color of white that flagellates, that blinds,
that oscillates in space which is then reduced to the
back of my hand: I know this. I know all of this.
we were not naked, yet something
buried in the skin reveals itself disarmed, mumbling
an earnest palaver of questions I have no answers for.
what happened? where are we? should we just – die?
an echoing reverb, or simply a song – a metronomic
carousal of swan-song I have heard before persists
and maybe all this time,
we have been awake, in separate cities.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 9:04 PM UTC
chewing each sound
like a dusty paint chip;
they don’t sit well, dark, wooden stairways
wrapped around my throat, banisters
sherry carpet running down the middle.
trial steps, you buy with each motion
swollen bones.
“sturdy windowsills,” that’s true.
we peel off raindrops,
closing the canister.
i sneer outside; that sun oscillates,
with its blistering pirouette.
costume design left it naked.
yet, this sallow creaking in my attic
is
a conscious decision.
possession, not ownership.
Jun 11, 2011
Jun 11, 2011 at 2:41 PM UTC
Caught in the maze
Of amazing veins
****** cells excel
Tunneling thru’
Vessels and vestibules
Mind oscillates vacillates
In chaotic amplitude
Like a pendant in pendulum
Of wishes and vices
Divine and devilish
Wise and unwise
Pride and prejudice
Dual mind is in duel
Behind the temple
Brain at home in skull
Will and wit seated well in skill
Rein, rule or roam and ruin
Embroidered and embroiled
Embodied and emboldened
Meditate, mediate,
Cogitate, agitate
Churn and spurn
Nurture the soul within
Explore the radiant light
At the end of the tunnel
Mind, the deity on duty
As mysterious as its Maker,
The Brain behind the brain
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 10:17 AM UTC
She appears a determined stare or the other, a drop of tear,
he oscillates like a pendulum, between her changing moods-
that take him by surprise.But he is blissfully at ease.
His swing every moment, spans between love and an empty space,
ebullient life and dark forgetfulness without any end.
On the periphery everything appears to have a symmetry,
in the river,water rushes towards the sea, watching it from the bank,
one thinks everything goes fine, but to see what happens in life
one needs to look deeper in to the current, keep ears closer to the ground
to understand. Love has more power than even tempered iron, you'll see,
if you understand how it works on every situation,
even surpassing your own estimation.
"Come hither" her eyes plead without even words, he quickly responds,
his heart allows it to happen even without a thought.
The wind, not giving any hint, swiftly moves and caresses the flower,
Love is blind, plays it's games, without even logic, would you believe?
Let's just flow together, forgetting everything else.
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 5:57 AM UTC
Caught in the maze
Of amazing veins
****** cells excel
Tunnelling thru’
Vessels and vestibules
Mind oscillates vacillates
In chaotic amplitude
Like a pendant in pendulum
Of wishes and vices
Divine and devilish
Wise and unwise
Pride and prejudice
Dual mind is in duel
Behind the temple
Brain at home in skull
Will and wit seated well in skill
Rein, rule or roam and ruin
Embroidered and embroiled
Embodied and emboldened
Meditate, mediate,
Cogitate, agitate
Churn and spurn
Nurture the soul within
Explore the radiant light
At the end of the tunnel
Mind, the deity on duty
As mysterious as its Maker,
The Brain behind the brain
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 8:08 PM UTC
And it weaves, and breathes
you can’t see it
Capitulates and oscillates
you can’t control it
Floats as subdued whispers
you can’t mute it
Gently brushes, supple touches
it’s not textile
Fluctuating ever pulsating
it won’t be stilled
As a reticent billow
it cannot wither
Surging, swelling, never telling
the Delphic poetic
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 12:17 AM UTC
the instant, the instance, is that your body?
the clear cleansing storefront windows
ask for clarification.
is that your body, presently?
is that your body presentably?
just in that secular instant, again, over,
the body’s inquisition clarifies, asking,
requesting in a babel of foreign languages,
repeat after me!
each window pane that follows repeats the query,
the themes in each, tiny variations,
the variables of rhythm, timbre, harmony,
engine timing minute minutiae alterations,
in that passing milli-instant,
each a separate instance for each separate pane.
in every instance. in every language.
the accusations tonality oscillates in wavelength pitch.
quest nonetheless similar,
is that your body?
all the replies are mirrored reciprocal.
that was my past.
this my present.
the next, a future vision.
the here, the now, all of it, each a flashcard.
the insistence!
*when your body falls finally upon
the sidewalks concrete filthy city Persian tapestry,
the shameful answer tastes always the same.*
always the same.
May 21, 2019
May 21, 2019 at 8:50 AM UTC
youre bringing me down
not to the tank floor
where your image above seems distorted and oscillates
between grim and precious
but where you deflate me
below where my ego floats me
feet parallel
third eye perpendicular
like you and yours
bringing me way down
not below the bed (unless you like that kind of thing)
where only the darkened image of your lowest extremities are in view
only your most base visible
but you enfeeble me
beneath where my height normally is measured
knees grinding
clutching my claws
into the ground
down down down (man)
not still, submerged within the earth
where thistle and clover block my view of you
your tears watering my marble marker
but you pacify me
buried beyond my anxieties
placidity settling
astride my bone
to envelop my quintessence
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 9:05 PM UTC
A lone quanta,
adrift in the vacuum,
drawn by an invisible force,
yet bound by no field.
It oscillates,
collides,
dissipates—
fragmented into uncertainty,
its wavefunction collapsing
before it can be known.
Mar 16, 2025
Mar 16, 2025 at 6:16 PM UTC
Quantum grave robbery corpse bride stood up
acting as a grotesque sign post warning but
that tragic sideways glance splits seconds and
intersections spatters concrete bodies
Pathological investigation and morbid dissection
bears the heaviest weight
of horrifying and paralyzing eternal return
when time loops breaks you upon wheels
Tethered in bad faith
reminiscent of clamped surgical invasive insertion
Ouroboros chasing the dragon only to find the dragon is itself
taking shape as endless mass fed media distraction
Nativity naivety engaged in misstep
of evolution smolders like oaths broken from
talking heads revealed
as trumpeting propaganda warlocks
and even in an infinite period of time
they are still liars
No longer concerned with if it curves
oscillates
stays flat
explodes
is empty
Only want to know
when it all ends.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 11:58 AM UTC
We don’t have winds like this
Here in the shire
Right now the world is screaming
Squirming on its axis
'I am here!' it shouts
However much you **** me
A deafening rush
The trees could crush me
The battling branches break, fell me
The low clouds lumbar onwards
Indifferent, closing down
The last sneak of blue
The west-south-westerly whips
All grass and grain flat
Against dark earth
Freshly turned by the blade
Autumn comes abruptly this year
The leaves are torn to the ground
The path ahead a boil of branches
Lashing at me
The dry-gold giant Hogweed
Oscillates with insanity
The tall beeches mope and weep above
The wind an inferno
Its sound like steam is cleansing
The earth is separate today
It says 'fuck you!'
The wind can hear me
It Shrieks at me
My heart beats a little faster
Once again that thought of oblivion
Like diving under waves
26/8/20
Apr 14, 2021
Apr 14, 2021 at 5:15 PM UTC