"panorama" poems
*coffees are my one-way ticket to contemplation–
to realizations and dramas
it shapes my eyes
to view life like a panorama
coffee makes me think
about the world,
the people
and both combined
coffee connects me to the crowd
to their lives,
mishaps
sometimes shared with mine
coffee gates to different events and realities
it awakens wishful thinking
and kicks curiosities
coffee, summed up
is a friend
of all those who've got their heads in their *****
it is a guru of life
love,
and other life experiences
a.t.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 6:05 PM UTC
Arise! Oh Heart, from the catacombs of the dead
Shake off the dust, for Life beckons you like a buddy
Peel off the weariness that wraps you like a shroud
And walk to the open to perceive the light.
Arise! Oh Heart, from the dungeons of gloom
The dawn is at your door step, waiting to break
Sing with the koel, merrily warbling in the woods
Dance with the billows, wildly prancing on the deep.
Arise! Oh Heart, from the ghettoes of *******
Break loose the ropes that moor you to the past
Dart through the panorama of the cerulean blue
And fly high into regions, uncharted and new.
Arise! Oh Heart, from the citadels of hate
Listen not to the shrieking and howling behind
Drink from the goblet of conciliating love
And rejoice at the birth of a dawn with promises galore!
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 8:28 AM UTC
words fail to describe
the beauty and peace
found in the mountains sublime
the scenic panorama of the place
is captured so well
by those who live in
the mountain's veld
of trees towering to skies of indigo blue
of squirrels owls and fireflies
of streams pristine and pure
within the province
of mountain kin's hearts
there is an intrinsic
soulful yoke
inborn
of the mountain's
heritage
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
Consumer Of Existence
Even if it’s all predestined
It’s you who choose.
So go, so do.
It does what it does
Despite your choices;
So many factors out and in you.
Even if it’s all predestined
You don’t know a thing,
So go, so do,
And carry on as usual.
You win, you lose,
You pay your dues,
Thinking that you have control
Though you have none at all.
A panorama of existence,
You consumer and disarmed.
They call it karma.
Consumer Of Existence 12.14.2016
Circling Round Reality;
Arlene Corwin
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 5:57 AM UTC
*Your love is like skydiving,
an unnerving thought,
breathless & intoxicating
elevations beyond exhilarating,
as it transforms life's panorama
nothing seemed ever the same,
after the thrill of the fall*
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 9:32 AM UTC
a black bat
hangs upside down
digesting a fly
his face almost human
a flying Frankenstein
he excretes
puddles of guano
like miniature buttered popcorn
a dark and wavy goulash
gods gift
to beetles and worms
dizzied overheated men look on
to an uproarious variety hour
of song and a high heeled kicks
inspiring
a tempest of throbbing
whisky drenched
folded ***** and cash
trouser trout fish,
undulant
sexed up
tape worms for love
pulse the night
egging on bunny **** pom poms
devout finger puppets of Eros
for
shimmering ****** lipstick twilled vibratos
sequined tassel spinning areolas
and lavish come **** me dance girls
bring down the house in flames
making hearts apostate
clamoring
and melt men like steaming everglades
the bat
hangs from the chandelier
licks his black lips
and looks on to panorama of hieroglyphics
hearing music
a thunderous nonsense
witnessing visions
of
flies, tasty white winged moths
and the thrill of screams
while biting the head off of another bat
in a claret stained red velvet cabaret
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 5:09 PM UTC
(1)
The day she visited the dissecting room
They had four men laid out, black as burnt turkey,
Already half unstrung. A vinegary fume
Of the death vats clung to them;
The white-smocked boys started working.
The head of his cadaver had caved in,
And she could scarcely make out anything
In that rubble of skull plates and old leather.
A sallow piece of string held it together.
In their jars the snail-nosed babies moon and glow.
He hands her the cut-out heart like a cracked heirloom.
(2)
In Brueghel's panorama of smoke and slaughter
Two people only are blind to the carrion army:
He, afloat in the sea of her blue satin
Skirts, sings in the direction
Of her bare shoulder, while she bends,
Finger a leaflet of music, over him,
Both of them deaf to the fiddle in the hands
Of the death's-head shadowing their song.
These Flemish lovers flourish;not for long.
Yet desolation, stalled in paint, spares the little country
Foolish, delicate, in the lower right hand corner.
6.7k
Broken headstones speckle
the even sea
of your grassy hill
Panorama of your crest
hugged by blue sky
Among the memorials
long since uninhabited
the residents
returned to the earth
My thoughts are seeds
and your soil is fertile
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 4:44 PM UTC
first line lips are false as a beach next mcarthur’s in chicago next the big blond takes the elevator down next pearl on the lip next shalimar stirs the canine **** all right I like that let’s start a new one do it what what do you have don’t **** up wheres the apostrophe ******* you’re cruel now back now whack it again whack it again I want it to go back whack it press it whack it okay new line
i want elevator i want uh i want don’t ask the bellboy for the time just take the elevator to what? to notions? to the lingerie shop? ah **** you grandma new line
all right one more time okay **** the gin-socked tongue that’s “soaked” period once again the elevator down paint the pretty tie (cough cough) thai next big buick big *** like fish put a ? after fish take it back take it back you ***** okay that’s not bad you do all right ah **** song of india in the desert at night put “” marks around song of india & desert song in capital letters hit shalimar then cadillac red lips then **** like a seashell with a gin-soaked tongue start new line
all right does mcarthur stick his socks in the bathtune at night that’s bathtub the dog howls at the moon buries it in the backyard snakes lose their skin cocoa butter slick water on the brain of the big dark blond song of india **** **** **** big fish *** big v8 you ***** keep up with me painted rocks like a pretty tie fast car long legs and a broken heel now dead no not dead yet um estee lauder goes down on price-waterhouse in a swedish bath bellboy watching this is his reflection in the mirror no silver one-sided next line
big blond trampled by elephants with wrinkled knees starch is not chic all gone shalimar stirs the k-9 **** sequined *** in the moonlight cadillac red lips hungry dog eats tail becomes himself bad dog play dead okay what do you suggest bad doggie bad comma bad comma hungry dog go for the tongue you dumb ***** keep going new line
what do cactuses(i) have??? fronds fur what are their things called new line
dog hates gin go for the breast stupid ***** good dog dry dog poor dog pour blond water of life **** yellow a thai like painted rocks period next
i want head down legs up i want sequined *** only ****** level damp dampened dampest ***** panorama **** **** **** blue blue down there feminine azure with clouds too got it odalisque in blue period have mercy on me no no new ******* line what are you filling that thing up with okay stop it for now
4.6k
Under silver wing
San Francisco's towers sprouting
thru thin gas clouds,
Tamalpais black-breasted above Pacific azure
Berkeley hills pine-covered below--
Dr Leary in his brown house scribing Independence
Declaration
typewriter at window
silver panorama in natural eyeball--
Sacramento valley rivercourse's Chinese
dragonflames licking green flats north-hazed
State Capitol metallic rubble, dry checkered fields
to Sierras- past Reno, Pyramid Lake's
blue Altar, pure water in Nevada sands'
brown wasteland scratched by tires
Jerry Rubin arrested! Beaten, jailed,
coccyx broken--
Leary out of action--"a public menace...
persons of tender years...immature
judgement...pyschiatric examination..."
i.e. Shut up or Else Loonybin or Slam
Leroi on *** gun rap, $7,000
lawyer fees, years' negotiations--
SPOCK GUILTY headlined temporary, Joan Baez'
paramour husband Dave Harris to Gaol
Dylan silent on politics, & safe--
having a baby, a man--
Cleaver shot at, jail'd, maddened, parole revoked,
Vietnam War flesh-heap grows higher,
blood splashing down the mountains of bodies
on to Cholon's sidewalks--
Blond boys in airplane seats fed technicolor
Murderers advance w/ Death-chords
Earplugs in, steak on plastic
served--Eyes up to the Image--
What do I have to lose if America falls?
my body? my neck? my personality?
June 19, 1968
4.5k
I think that I might fly away, in my hot air balloon,
And hide from worldly worries on the dark side of the moon;
There’s but one thing I need before I float into the blue:
I need a sky companion and I want it to be you.
We’ll fly beyond the storm clouds and we’ll watch from up above,
I’ll cover you in rainbows as we feel each others’ love;
You’ll shower in the stars at midnight in our special place,
I’ll dry you with a comet’s tail and kiss your beaming face.
Dreamy drifting panorama, changing every day,
Every night your loving smile will be my milky way,
The moon will wane before us, sailing there in heaven’s height,
For nothing else can challenge our love’s everlasting light.
Venus shining on us, glowing soft at our devotion,
Our daily drifting dalliance in love’s celestial ocean,
I’ll write you lovers’ poetry, and you will be my muse,
Orion and Andromeda will oversee our cruise.
We’ll sleep with clouds as pillows, maybe steal an angel’s wings,
Then fly as magic lovebirds, or slide round Saturn’s rings,
And should we tire of drifting and the stars all floating by,
We’ll hook onto a meteor and soar across the sky.
Will you consent to be my mate on our celestial ship?
I’m ready, heart all packed with love, to last us for the trip,
Take my hand and step aboard, we’re heading for the sun,
We’re flying till we find the place where our two souls are one.
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 11:36 PM UTC
Laboriously beleaguering hypercritically meticulous hypotaxis apomixis strive
Rainbow mare aura roan exude emote derive
Syntactical propinquity habitation harbinger harangue stoic hive
Colloquialism vernaculars prurient adage jargon idiom clichés jive
Mirador bartizan panorama stalwart bastion bulwark tableau live
Canny cleaver crafty cunning furtive sneaky stealthy connive
Poignant cogent piquant ephemeral effulgence temporal refraction arrive
Paradoxical dichotomy greaves gauntlets gamut catalyst abstracts survive
Hectic mayhem , proximity parameter perimeter peripherals , annihilate rive
Zingy zesty zany zenithal azimuth entity zeal alive
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 9:11 PM UTC
"Surreal skeptic, cynical cryptic! Licentious lecheries fabulist façade fantasias. Wild eyed spectral serene. Dream of catenary concoctions, ethereal salacious conjugation, bridge the gap in metaphysical mystique. Erotica erectile errantry’s exserted protuberance is a kinesiology kleptomaniac with his embark embargo extraditions and his eventuation evocative execrations, a positive amalgamated anathema android of a terminus thrall. The shadow in the shade of the silhouette sojourn. The bailiff’s rakeness rails incarnate, unicorn railway nails and all. He will paint mirador bartizan panorama tableaus all over your proximity parameter perimeter peripherals. Force the enmity to acquiesce into impunity.” “Why this is not but an ogling ogre of an oligarchy omelet” she shrieked as he continued to tickle her. “Down here at the bizarre bazaar we all believe in the blasphemous farcical fugueness,” he said. “Positive orchestration renditions of transpositional interlude.” “Come here,” she said “let my clambering clamorous clangor write you a wield wile treatise expose’.” “The legions of Chinga da are battling the hoards of Gunga din saying ‘kinetic supremacy temporize tractive fluent’ , it’s sheer genocide. That plasty goop nosed Gumby ****** Gunga doesn’t stand a chance. Coax cacophony clout, catatonic phonics, grizzly grotto grouches all”, She squealed. “Now you’re gumption dreaming”, he chimed. “Chutzpah panache spontaneous generation complicity, gambit alluvium aloof succor.”
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
*You used to paint pictures
with me. You were always smiling
when the brush glides on paper
as the colours spread everywhere.
Patiently, you'd recreate every
bit and impression of reality,
and add a version of your own,
until the picture will be perfect
with magical meanings
only we would have known.
But patience is a virtue
your self never learned.
One day, you were snapping photographs,
capturing moments, developing pictures,
pasting collages -- a panorama of
life you chose.
For weeks and weeks on end,
I went to those places where we used to paint;
Time is such a mystery to have put distance in a memory.
I would trade my whole life just for you
to colour it again. Like old paintings,
bring back its vividness; restore it.
And now, I am on this bus.
In transit.
A gift-wrapped box inside my bag.
I am sending it to you personally.
Take pictures with it and
live a happy life.*
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 4:45 AM UTC
Fertile earth’s seductive sorcery
Like ephemeral effulgence’s effluent effusion
Can lead you to believe that it’s not a travesty
Like life’s visceral intuitive eternal is not lost in subtle evasive confusion
Life’s virile translucence reflects this glow
Like an aorist ensemble of interludes transposition
Can lead you to believe that you’re in the know
Like omnipresence presages omniscience’s ubiquity is existential exigency’s peroration’s exposition
Corporeally preternatural metaphysical mystique
Like a mirador bartizan tableau panorama
Can inspire us to rise above its critique
Like spatiotemporal’s telemetry incarnate is creation’s vivid intrepid cyclorama
Spectral verve’s liaison’s consortium
Like eclectic synectic’s conclave’s fatidic
Can leave you lost in germane compendium
Like terminus thrall’s apriori inclination is transcendental accession’s endemic mnemonic
Monad’s transitional majestic splendor
Like residual harmonic vibration’s resilience
Can autonomously evoke and vicariously render
Like rubato’s actuator’s prospectus revealed is orchestration rendition’s intriguing brilliance
Eidetic preterit’s aesthetic amendments
Like protractive analyses’ dimensional delineation
Can lead to cogent salacious enticements
Like phantasmagoria’s fantasia fantastication’s magniloquence is sultry solace’s ostentatious ideation
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 8:07 PM UTC
I came to you, oh mighty land
Asleep to everything at hand
Lethargic from more southern air
Not yet awakened, unaware
The panorama I beheld
Composed a view unparalleled
A pastor with his best endeavor
Could preach forever and forever
And never say with words as clear
As the aura of this atmosphere
In the awe inspiring craggy peaks
And the chasms as His silence speaks
Where His creation stirs conviction
That brings a balming benediction
To one that hungers for a proof
Here, upon the planets roof
Nov 24, 2010
Nov 24, 2010 at 3:30 PM UTC
Vast, empty, midnight hour,
hunchbacked lampposts glaring over parasitic black earth
choking its host.
A parking lot,
an ecosystem’s blemish—
hot tar seeping into the pores of the earth
like a stubborn blackhead in a lip line.
When no cars burrow into the blackened hide
like lice
the great absence of life
is an atrocity.
I imagine myself skateboarding across the tier
as the small town cops
watch languidly with vague interest—
A skateboarder’s paradise
where wheels and accomplice minds roll across celestial barriers
blasting infinite pulses
into the microcosm.
What greasy punks have their mother’s van parked here,
huddling by the heat vents
and jerking off into a Pringle’s can?
Empty parking lot
looks like a cemetery
filled to the brim
where headstones meld
over a mass grave—
delineated by white lines,
the apparitions of vehicles and their hosts
haunt the frozen space.
Another horrible excuse
to waste land,
a wasteland in and of itself
where Tom Eliot saunters aimlessly
and buries the dead.
The saddest sight to behold,
this vacuous parking lot
littered with stray shopping carts,
phantasmal plastic bags,
gum splotches,
***** stains,
candy wrappers,
cigarette butts,
used condoms,
lonely cops
and patient drug dealers,
ambulant skaters,
tired punks,
bored teenagers,
somnambulists,
stumbling drunks,
hunchbacked ***** lights
prying for life beneath its sallow gaze—
The air encapsulated within the perdition
stifling,
the pavement below stifling,
a constriction only visible
when emptied of its contents.
A cop wakes from their choking nightmare gasping
to find themselves trapped,
****** in this parking lot
where the walkie-talkie buzzes
with the weeping and gnashing of teeth.
The warehouse store
looming above the waiting room
lifeless, silent, dark countenance—
Big Brother sees all in the gaping maw.
Cascading before me,
stretching towards the highway passing by,
waiting for the panorama to finish scrolling,
the treadmill to cease its cycle—
all the while lamenting life’s absence
and reveling in the potentiality it possesses.
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 10:18 PM UTC
stunted
short
visionary dwarf
****** level
too much too much
***** panorama
cut the crap
lay on your back
change of venue
blue blue
dark clouds too
****** of black cotton
100% ******
feminine products need not apply
c’mon
but wait
no more ****
but where’s our precious depths
lost our thoughts
consciousness raised
to new depths
then lost
as if ******* weren’t enough
but hey
look
just drop it
no asking for a hand now the clap is extinct
****** fungus a dinosaur
what we’ve all been working for, right
the liberated ****
without love
without guilt
sure, but meantime it’ll **** you
homicidal inundation
or better yet
you’ll go blind looking for it
2k
On the beach I sat on a rock, staring out to sea.
The day was sunny and warm, though blowing a gentle breeze.
There were only a few people there on the beach.
They were engrossed with having fun, and ignored me.
Further along the beach, in a striped top, was a girl.
She walked to the edge of the sea, and watched the incoming tide.
I idly watched the girl who was watching the incoming tide.
Her long hair, unbound, was teased by the gentle breeze.
She stood there motionless, just an ordinary girl,
Gazing at the relentless waves rolling in from the sea.
Although there were other people scattered on the beach,
None of them had any attraction in any way for me.
I was spending time alone, there on that beach,
Watching the slow encroachment of the incoming tide.
As the sun moved overhead, stronger became the breeze,
Making breaking white tops on the waves on the sea.
Reaching into her pocket, a camera was produced by the girl,
Who slowly started filming the scene, turning and facing me.
I watched the girl, standing there, with her back to the sea.
Was she secretly filming me while pretending to film the beach?
She was bare-foot, and as I watched, her feet were wettened by the tide.
The wind had moved round and from her to me now blew the breeze.
I thought I could detect a subtle scent wafting from the girl.
“Attar of Roses”, my favourite fragrance, drifted across to me.
Then, as I sat and watched, further turned the girl.
Having turned fully around, she stood again with her back to the beach.
Then, she seemed to realise, she was surrounded by sea,
And gradually she became aware of the incoming tide.
Once again, she slowly turned, hair blown in her face by the breeze,
And her face, framed by her hair, was now facing to me.
Then, camera swinging from a hand, she walked up the beach.
The panorama that I saw, had now lost some appeal for me.
The sun was slowly sinking down, and colder blew the breeze.
The waves were getting stronger, on the incoming tide.
I decided it was time that I ended my sojourn by the sea,
And I could still smell “Attar of Roses”, a memento of the ephemeral girl.
*Grahame Upham
9th May 2014*
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 10:36 AM UTC
Daniel,
Waktu panorama nyata cerah merona
Aku termenung dungu
Malu, cemas tak pernah begini
Atau entah pernah namun kulupa
Kala aku berlari menuju hilang
Cerah itu muncul, kupikir selesai semua
Berpapasan sosokmu, membelai pipimu
Ku tak becus
Yang terasa dijiwa makin bermakna
yang ada dihati makin berarti
Tak harap lebih berjumpa denganmu
Dimimpiku
Dipelaminan
Atau dirumah kita nanti
Rasa cintamu sudah cukup
Sungguh,
Terima kasih
Buatmu, 2017.
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 12:15 PM UTC
As the undulating bodies part
the neon lights catch her face,
and her piercing gaze catches me.
A panorama of nothing but a blur.
But her- sharp.
Thirsty. Blazing.
Her hair is sleek and straight
but the way she throws back her head,
runs her fingers through the strands,
makes a tousled mess as entrancing and as
playfully wild as the club swirling around her.
Her lips are red. A challenging red.
The color of a delicate rose, but also
the color the harlot wears in old films.
The color of sin; of desire.
To unlock those lips
And tousle that hair
And lure out the voice….
To have the power of a man’s gaze now.
To be able to throw at her the force of
a chiseled jaw and stubble across my chin.
To know my role is to chase her
like a brave doe that turned
to look at me in the forest.
Who bounds away gracefully,
Knowing my sights are set
and the target is upon her.
How she would know my adrenaline
surged with every step she made
that took her farther from me.
All the power would lay in my
virile hands, to pull the trigger
on her when I may.
Ha! I laugh at my roots in the world that
imposes a craving for the rule of power.
Your gaze tells me we don’t belong there.
I move through the bodies toward you.
Toward freedom.
Lift me from my roots, darling.
We’ll run together.
Give up the vision of a pointed gun.
How’d they ever make me think
I wanted to be shot?
Oh, what a vision. What a creation!
My long locks twisting around yours,
how my lissome fingers get their
chance with you. And those
supple lips lend me the magnetic red hue.
How different the whole scene becomes
when the both of us are provocative
creatures, two nymphs swimming together
in the water of seduction.
Continue on, Odysseus.
Go conquer Scylla and Charybdis.
Master the seas of half the world.
The Sirens are singing to each other.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 1:04 AM UTC
Listen with ears attuned and you will hear the sound of silence
For in there, waves sail forth in translucent nothingness
hear the smimmering vibes of ethereal energy sublime
the magnificent quiet of a heartbeat resonating
In imperceptible pristine rhythm precise
The Creator's Divine Presence manifests.
In perfect ambiance the perfect eyes beyond universal gazes sees
limitless panorama of the majesty of pious supreme desires
The ultimate Maker in His Domain beyond Supreme
The awe-inspiring mysteries yet potently visible
Incomparable Masterpieces, Omnipotent's smiles
The Creator,s Divine Presence visions all.
[email protected].
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 3:42 AM UTC
Reflecting upon the ambitions of my youth,
What happened to the man I never became?
My roots, once anchored firmly, no longer sit
In countryside soil, oh dear, what a shame!
For my heart, town-life has staked its claim.
Whenever viewing those years through the *****
Lenses of memory’s filmy glass, I can always see
The discarded ideals to which I never could
Aspire, my failure, such a huge relief for me,
Not having to face the music, of a rural melody.
I seemed fairly happy then, driving a tractor.
Making a living from having, a field to plough.
The simple pleasure, a reward I had forgotten,
Somehow ashamed, as if I had broken a vow.
Or maybe just guilty, because, I’m happier now.
Auden had said. “You spend twenty five years
Learning to be yourself.” Is this to fully mature?
The wisdom of age wiping my lenses clean.
Seeing an unsullied panorama afresh, is a cure,
The man I’ve become, at ease, at peace, secure.
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 6:48 AM UTC